The Tragedy Mask
by LaDyFiCtIoN
Summary: Kakashi must, alas, light a candle during the Toro Nagashi festival. At least saying goodbye to someone won't be so hard with someone new around. With Iruka at his side, and perhaps a new future, the tragedy does not seem so sad anymore. [Yaoi, KakaIru]


This story is a prompt/challenge from the _KakaIru livejournal community_. There was a fic rush, and I could not resist, so I joined. I received _fascimility_'s request, to discuss the _Toro Nagashi_ festival and so, this is dedicated to her.

_(**Tōrō Nagashi**__ is a __Japanese__ ceremony in which participants float __paper lanterns__ down a river. This is primarily done on the last evening of the __Buddhist __Obon__ festival as a way to guide the __spirits__ of the departed back to the other world.) _

I can't wait to see who got mine!

Enjoy the story (it's not a drabble, yay!)

**Disclaimer:** Nothing.

**-The Tragedy Mask-**

_''There is nothing sadder than a child, standing alone, at the gravesite of his parents. Although he cries an infinite amount of tears, and they moisten the cold, compact ground, his sorrows will never sink deep enough to reach the hearts he has lost. _

_The first time is always the hardest; his knees give out and his wails reverberate against every other tombstone. There are thousands, but these ones hurt the most. There is no one there to comfort him; the other dead souls do not offer solace. They only watch. The child knows that he looks pitiful, calling out for his parents, because no matter how desperate he sounds, there will be no answer. _

_For each passing second, he sheds yet another mournful droplet, until time itself leaves him lost in the moment, and in between the conscious realms. Time and Death keep the other spirits from helping the small boy and although they are the strongest of barriers, in the cemetery, they pervade all, but mean nothing to the living and grieving…''_

The classroom echoed with silence. The speaker, despite the pained words he read, looked up at the students with a sheepish smile.

''Don't look so sad; it's only a story…''

Some faces, nonetheless, sniffled, while others openly cried. Even the teacher, sitting in the back of the class, felt tears prickling in his brown eyes. He rose from his seat and ushered his class to follow suit, as their guest speaker stood awkwardly before them.

''Give a round of applause for Hatake-san, class.''

And they did. It was not fake, or orchestrated, only prompted, as they were roused from the surreal state, in which the author's powerful words kept them captivated. Hatake bowed humbly, rubbing the back of his head clumsily. His chuckle resonated with the same uneasy embarrassment.

''Thank you for listening.''

The bell rang just then, an abrupt reminder that the somber reality of their classroom had ended for the day. Some students lingered; they held out editions of their novel and asked, with shy, and forlornly bitter smiles that lingered still, for an autograph. Hatake signed each one, until the room emptied before his own wan smile uncurled from his lips.

''I should be the one thanking you, Hatake-san. It is not everyday that our classroom is visited by a talented author like yourself.''

''Oh, Umino-san, you flatter me way too much. I can't believe you're actually teaching a class on my novel.''

Iruka blushed, a faint rose coloring dusted across his cheeks as he chuckled. ''I must admit, when I first read your story, it touched me on a personal level. I felt like that little boy…and your words, they described exactly how I felt, growing up with such a loss on my conscience.''

Kakashi nodded, as he answered in a low, melancholic tone, ''only those who have experienced that type of pain can ever write, or truly grasp it.''

Their smiles mirrored the others – cheerless but mature and empathetic. Although the young adults had only just met, they felt a common thread of understanding amid each other. The power of words had brought them together – a tragically acclaimed writer and a young, passionate teacher.

''I heard that you were going to do another reading of your novel at the _Toro Nagashi_ festival, next week.''

Their words transcended the boundaries of professionalism. They spoke to one another as fellow human beings, as if there was no fame, status, or difference.

''Yes, I am. I am also very honored that my novel is receiving so much acknowledgment, but...''

There was only respect, and it was comfortable.

''But, I too have to light a lantern this year.''

Iruka could not see Kakashi's face; his long silvery hair hid his eyes, as they were focused on the bright orange cover of his heartrending novel. He figured, however that the miserably lonesome tone would in fact, match the handsome man's face.

''I'm sorry, Hatake-san. You have my sincerest condolences.''

''Please, call me Kakashi, Iruka-san. Besides, I do not want any more sympathy… I'd rather your phone number.''

Kakashi looked up, turning his cheeky grin in Iruka's direction, all signs of despair having vanished. There was a great deal of mirth swirling in his cerulean eyes but the swirl curving into his grin and around his dimple was far more devious and enticing.

Iruka was dumbfounded. He blinked in rapid succession, until short, raspy attempts at chuckles escaped his lips. What happened to the elegiac tone of their conversation? To where did the deep-rooted understanding disappear? How could this man have changed from binary opposites so quickly?

Was he…?

''Are you…trying to hit on me, Kakashi-san?''

''Is that a problem?''

The loaded question dangled teasingly in front of Iruka. A prompt _yes_, would infer that he was in fact, not gay, which was an absolute lie, and that he was not even mildly curious, which he _really_ was. But a shy or even a confident _no_ was an open invitation for mischief and that, as experience taught him, was dangerous.

''I mean I'm an openly gay author…'' Kakashi capitalized on the hesitance, with his smug, witty mastery of words. ''So either you're gay too, or you're just interested in my writing. Which is it?''

Although befuddled, Iruka managed to smirk, as he responded with a brazen, ''both''.

Kakashi sent a playful wink at the schoolteacher and said, ''so you'll be my date to the festival?''

Iruka took the author's book from his desk and scribbled his phone number on the first page. He then handed it back, the grin still splayed across his lips, ''only if you come over to my place for dinner first.''

The tragic significance of the festival seemed to lighten up, as the men exchanged their goodbyes and lingering glances. What in the world had just happened? Iruka's heart raced, thumping speedily in his chest. Never judge a book by its cover? Iruka scoffed at the old cliché, laughed, and gathered his things before locking up for the evening. Even such a universal generalization could not properly describe one Hatake Kakashi, his _date_.

The early August breeze was refreshing on the humid night. The overcast was clear, but even the stars, shinning brilliantly on the navy tapestry of the sky, were not needed. On the night of the festival, as the crowds bustled together, the candles of sorrow and true loneliness would lit up the night.

The _Toro Nagashi_ festival commenced with a eulogy for the lost souls of the past years. Families held hands, prayed silently beneath their breaths, and shed tears publicly, where everyone else understood their pain. And yet, despite the gloomy atmosphere of the night, heightened by saddened faces, there was hope, glimmering within every candle. The community gathered and supported one another. There were no stronger emotions than those felt that night.

Iruka stood within the community, as he remembered the one and only time he too, lit a candle for his dead parents. His thoughts were haunting, especially as Kakashi read aloud, another chapter from his novel. The audience was captivated by the intense anxiety and depression, imbued deep within every word and by the end, as Kakashi closed his book, tears of the past burned in his eyes.

Those same eyes, however, wore tragedy beautifully. Iruka clapped passionately for his companion, stopping only when Kakashi approached him, and stole a hand for himself to lace their digits together. The public watched them, Iruka realized, but as long as Kakashi's eyes were only focused on him, he would manage.

There was nothing to hide at a festival, where people bore their souls openly, to guide the departed ones home.

They walked silently, side by side, to the river's edge, as the mourners ensued and collected. The numbers were large but the unity of the community was far more overwhelming. A hum of morose serenity purred through the summer breeze and everyone heard and embraced it. This was it – closure whelmed their hearts.

The honor was his this year. Kakashi was proud to light the first candle.

By the banks, the couple crouched down and indulged in the peaceful silence of ritual prayer. Iruka leaned against Kakashi, who in return, murmured appreciatively, ''thank you''.

His lips moved again, albeit smiling, to utter his last private prayer as he lowered the matches' flame to the ivory candle before them. The wick succumbed to the fire and a hue of flickering orange lit up the paper lantern. The radiance gleamed off both their visages. Kakashi looked to Iruka and his smile was as warm as the heat.

''Help me cast it away?''

Their hands joined and the men leaned comfortably up against one another. The empathy between them had returned, as together, they placed the floating lantern onto the water and watched as the flow of the river took it away.

The crowds cheered and within minutes, hundreds of lanterns, from both sad and happy people, floated away ceremoniously. The orange glow shinning off the water's surface was gorgeous. The entire length of the river, before long, was illuminated and ready to guide the departed home.

''Goodbye…'' There was a sigh, as Kakashi waved to his lantern, drifting further and further away.

Iruka, through the crowd's laments, asked quietly, ''was this person important to you, Kakashi-san?''

''Yes…Mr. Ukki was my favorite plant…''

Iruka, once again, twitched uncontrollably, just like before, in the classroom.

''WHAT?!''

**-EndE-**

Ahhh, none of you were expecting that, right? I tricked you all! I used tragedy to mask the comedy; hence the title of the story. Although I wanted this to be tragic, Kakashi is a fun guy, and so, I used his quirky nature to my advantage. He was my transition point from a sad beginning, to a comedic flow of romance, some more tragedy, and finally, he pivots again and abruptly turns the story into a comedy. I'll stop analyzing myself now and let you all review!


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